


Gentron Week Collection 2k19

by SilenceIsGolden15



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Aromantic Asexual Keith (Voltron), Autistic Keith (Voltron), Autistic Pidge | Katie Holt, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Big Brother Shiro (Voltron), Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Blood, Bullying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dancing, Declarations Of Love, First Aid, Fist Fights, Forehead Kisses, Foster Kid Keith (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hanahaki Disease, Heat Stroke, Hugs, Keith (Voltron) Has Abandonment Issues, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lonely Keith (Voltron), Nail Biting, Nightmares, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Episode: s06e05 The Black Paladins, Post-Kerberos Mission, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Recovery, Roommates, Secrets, Self-Esteem Issues, Sharing Clothes, Sharing a Bed, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Clone, Sick Keith (Voltron), Sick Shiro (Voltron), Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Stimming, Suicidal Thoughts, Telepathic Bond, Touch-Starved Keith (Voltron), hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-07-31 04:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20109289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: All the prompts for the Gentron: Legendary Friendships event on Tumblr. All platonic goodness here my dudes.





	1. What's Lost is Found

Allura tried to avoid thinking about Altea. She shoved those memories away with as much force as she could; they just hurt too much. If she remembered, if she let herself mourn, she’d fall apart, and these inexperienced (and in some cases traumatized) paladins needed her to lead them. 

However, she’d begun to notice a pattern-- the more she suppressed the memories of her happy childhood on Altea, the more likely it got that they’d blindside her when she least expected it. 

Like right now, for instance. 

The Princess had been up late, unable to sleep with the constant anxiety pressing down on her. There was still no trace of Shiro, the distress calls were piling up in the Castle’s systems, and Keith still refused to pilot the Black Lion. That very afternoon they’d gotten into a quarrel about it; a quarrel that ended with Keith storming away, a suspicious wet gleam in his eyes. 

Usually after a fight Keith would disappear, sometimes for hours at a time. So Allura wasn’t expecting to find him on her late night patrol of the halls, curled into a ball next to Shiro’s bedroom door, head buried in his knees.

She took it all in-- he was missing his jacket, gloves, and boots, leaving him barefoot and exposed to the cold metal. His hair was mussed and tangled, and there were raised red lines over the bare flesh of his arms, like he’d been scratching.

All at once the memory took her.

A small purple shape, trembling and crying, sharp claws raking over skin. Her own voice, asking what was wrong. Warm darkness, a body pressed against hers, a rumble not unlike the purring of the Lions echoing through her chest.

It took her a moment to remember how to breathe, and even then her voice came out pathetically thin.

“Keith?”

He jumped violently at her voice, nearly toppling over before he realized who it was. Then his eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet.

“A-Allura… I… um, I…” He hugged his arms tight around himself, and his face was pale and streaked with tears that he tried to scrub away with one hand. Allura’s heart ached. She should’ve realized sooner. 

“Keith, are you…” she began, only to trail off. Keith wouldn’t answer truthfully. So instead she said, “Come with me,” and turned. There was only a moment of hesitation before she heard his soft footfalls behind her. 

It was fair to say that she didn’t entirely know what she was doing. It had been ten millennia after all, and Keith was only half Galra, at the most. But it was the only thing she could think of that would help. 

Allura led him back to her quarters. It was awkward, especially when he halted at the door and Allura had to beckon him inside. None of the Paladins had been in the room before to her knowledge, and Keith’s pale skin looked washed out under the blue lights. 

As smoothly as she could manage, Allura perched herself on the edge of her bed. Keith didn’t follow suit, just hovered by the door, shifting from foot to foot as though he was preparing to bolt at any moment. So Allura extended a hand to him, having to remind herself to be patient when he didn’t accept it immediately. 

_ Patience yields focus,  _ said Shiro’s voice in her mind, and she bit her tongue to keep the tears back.

After a few more seconds Keith sidled forward. He didn’t take Allura’s hand, but he sat beside her, just far enough to keep from touching, and she counted it as progress. 

“Allura,” he said, his voice husky with tears and the shouting from hours earlier, “I’m-- I’m sorry, about before, I--”

“It’s alright,” interrupted Allura, gently, “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

She felt him still. She kept her eyes on her hands, folded in her lap. 

“I should have brought it up sooner. I suppose I just assumed you were getting what you needed. Lazy of me, really.”

“What are you talking about, Princess?” asked Keith. She snuck a glance at his face, but he was avoiding her gaze. “I’m fine.”

She sighed a bit. Of course Keith wouldn’t realize. He knew less about the Galra than she did. 

Now how was she going to explain it? 

“You’re probably not aware of this,” she decided to say, “But Galra have different needs than humans or Alteans.”

Keith flinched at the mention of the Galra. After how Allura had acted before, any mention of them from her probably felt like the beginning of an attack. Her stomach curdled with guilt. But she pressed on.

“They might not seem like it, but the Galra are a social species, or at least they were ten thousand years ago. They require a certain amount of physical contact to stay healthy, physically and emotionally. Do you see what I mean?”

Keith gulped. His arms had folded over his chest, and now he squeezed them, hard, as his eyes found a random object across the room to focus on so that he wouldn’t have to look at her. 

“I’m fine,” he repeated, though this time the words seemed choked. “I’m only half anyway. It probably doesn’t affect me.”

Allura rose a disbelieving brow. “Then why were you scratching?” She poked at his arm to make her point and Keith recoiled an inch or two, leaning away from her hands. When he didn’t respond, she continued, “That’s a symptom of touch starvation for Galra. Skin irritation. Difficulty regulating emotion.” She paused for a moment and frowned. “You weren’t getting enough before either, were you? Even with Shiro.”

He shook his head violently, his hands rubbing up and down over his marked arms. “I don’t-- I don’t  _ need  _ that. I’m fine. I’ve gone without for longer. You don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Worry. Care.” He gnawed on his lower lip. “I won’t be a liability. We should focus on finding Shiro.”

For a moment Allura was at a loss. How was she supposed to convince him he mattered as much as Shiro? How could she convince him that she cared, especially after the way she’d acted? She had no idea, but she couldn’t just back down, either. She wasn’t about to let Keith get sicker just because he was stubborn. 

“Keith, this… this isn’t about Voltron. I’m not worried about you pulling your weight or being a liability to our mission. I’m worried about you, as a person.” She hesitated, then dared to murmur, “As your friend.”

Keith made a strangled sound, like he was on the edge of more tears. 

“What do you want from me, Allura? What do you want me to say?”

“Let me help you. Let me prove that I care.”

His shoulders sagged. He looked so tired-- like all the sleepless nights and relentless anxiety of the last few weeks had come crashing down all at once. 

“Fine. I just… fine.”

“Thank you.” Ever so gently she took his hand, and he let her tug him towards the head of her large bed. She hadn’t planned on this, not right away, but he seemed so exhausted. It would probably do them both good to get a little sleep. 

Pulling back the duvet, Allura settled herself into bed, ignoring the fact that she was still wearing her day gown. After a bit more prodding and pleading, Keith settled down beside her, leaning his head just slightly on her shoulder but going no further.

It was immensely awkward. The silence around them was tense, and Keith was even more so. His muscles were as stiff as metal. Allura, at a loss of what else to do and nearing the beginnings of panic, began to talk, keeping her voice low so it didn’t disturb the sleeping quiet of the Castle. 

“There were Galra on Altea when I was a child. Many of them were hybrids, too, either with Altean blood or other species.”

Keith relaxed a little, so she continued. 

“When I was young, perhaps about six decaphoebs, there was a little Galra girl staying in the Castle. She was the daughter of a high-ranking official from Daibazaal. One day I was playing in the garden and I found her sitting near one of the fountains. She was crying and scratching at her arms, but she had claws, so she was bleeding.”

She felt Keith cringe at her side, but he cringed inward instead of away, and she felt the brush of his knees as they pulled up. 

“I asked her what was wrong, and she said that she missed her mother.”

Allura’s eyes stared up at the white ceiling, but she was seeing the jewel blue of the Altean sky, feeling the light breeze on her cheeks, blinking away sunspots from the reflection of the sun on the walls of the Castle. The sweet smell of juniberry tickled her nose. 

“I told her I missed my mother, too. And asked if there was anything I could do. She just asked for a hug.” 

Tears were beginning to sting her eyes. 

“So I gave her one and brought her back to my rooms to have her scratches treated, and the next day I spoke to my father about it. He gave her permission to stay with me, and we slept together for the next few phoebs until she and her father returned to Daibazaal.”

A frown creased her lips, replacing the threatening tears. “It’s strange… I can’t quite remember her name now.”

There was silence for a moment, then Keith moved again. One of his hands bunched into Allura’s dress, and he pressed closer to her like he was looking for warmth. He gave a small sniffle.

“I don’t want to forget Shiro,” he said in a small voice. “He’s all I have.” 

Acting on instinct, Allura raised her hand to card through his hair. A shudder went down his spine, but he didn’t pull away, so she kept up the motion.

“We won’t forget him.”

A quiet whisper, “Promise?”

“I promise.” 

  
  



	2. Degrees of Separation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith's under the weather.

_ Knock knock knock.  _

“Keith?”

_ Knock knock knock.  _

“Keith? You in there?”

No answer, and Shiro frowned to himself. He’d already checked the dorm lounge, the simulator bay, the cafeteria-- hell, even the hover garage, and hadn’t been able to find Keith. And now he wasn’t answering his bedroom door. Keith was a creature of habit, he didn’t like deviating from his habits or the locations thereof… so where was he?

He glanced down at the door’s lock. It flashed green, and despite a few misgivings about invasions of privacy, Shiro decided that it was more important to figure out where his impulsive little mentee was hiding before he did something… well, impulsive. So he went in.

The room was dark, the lights extinguished and the blinds drawn. Everything seemed to be powered down and the bed was still neatly made and empty. But that didn’t dissuade Shiro. Three weeks ago Shiro had found him curled up under his bed, nursing a headache. Just because he wasn’t visible didn’t mean he wasn’t there. 

Under the bed was the first place he checked, but the floor was empty. Next he inspected the footwell under the desk, which was also bare, before moving to the closet. He slid the door open and heard a rustle, the row of Garrison blazers swinging slightly as something stirred underneath them, and when Shiro knelt and peered into the shadowed corner, found Keith curled up in the furthest corner. His knees drawn to his chest and his head resting on them.

Shiro swallowed back a sigh. He didn’t know why Keith did this if he was being honest. It could have something to do with sensory overload, hiding from light and noise, or it could be from his past; maybe he hid when he was feeling ill or otherwise vulnerable to keep someone from taking advantage of it. 

Whatever was wrong, Shiro would have to fix it. He kept his voice low.

“Keith?”

He curled up tighter, wrapping his arms around his head. Shiro felt a little bad, knowing how Keith didn’t like having to deal with people when he wasn’t feeling well, but it was a necessary evil.

“Come on, bud, I just wanna help.”

He grumbled a little.

“I know. I won’t turn the lights on. Just come over here so we can figure out what’s wrong, ok?”

Keith groaned, but reluctantly peeled his arms away from his head and began to scoot towards Shiro. His skin was pale, his nose red, and when he got close enough, his body radiated heat like the ground after a long desert day. 

“‘M ok Shiro. It’s just a--” he sneezed, then finished miserably, “Just a cold.”

Shiro reached out a hand, but Keith leaned away and he let it drop back to his knee. “Have you taken anything for it yet? Or gone to the nurse?”

He sniffled and shook his head. “No… I figured I would just sleep it off.” That statement was followed by a harsh cough that shook his shoulders, and Shiro barely kept himself from reaching out again. But he was confused, and more than a little concerned. 

“Keith, don’t you remember? We talked about this last time you got sick. You need to take medicine and tell someone you’re feeling bad. Sleeping it off is fine for all-nighters, but--”

“I know,” Keith interrupted, “I was just-- I didn’t want to bother you.” 

Shiro’s eyebrows rose at that. It had been several months since he’d heard that from him. He thought they’d moved past it, but maybe things weren’t as stable with Keith as they’d seemed. That made his stomach twist a little with guilt-- something was wrong, and he hadn’t noticed. 

Before he could ask Keith sneezed again, then descended into a coughing fit that had him doubling over until Shiro caught him. 

He rubbed his back until it ceased, then murmured softly, “Let’s go over to the bed.”

This time Keith went more easily, and Shiro got him across the room without much of a fight. He leaned into Shiro’s side and he wrapped an arm around his thin torso; it felt like embracing a space heater. 

“Jesus, kid. How high is your fever?”

He gave a limp shrug. “I dunno. Didn’t test.”

“Oh, Keith…”

“I’m fine.” He probably meant it as a snap, but it came out as more of a whine, and his head dropped onto Shiro’s shoulder. “Just need to rest.”

“Well, you’re right about that. At least let me help get you comfortable?”

Keith hesitated, but after a few seconds gave a weary nod of assent. The fact that he wasn’t still arguing was a testament to how badly he must be feeling, so Shiro tried to be as quick and efficient as possible as he went back to Keith’s closet to fetch some sleeping clothes. These he pressed into Keith’s hands with a quiet request for him to go into the bathroom and change.

While Keith did that, Shiro rooted through the room until he found the various health supplies he himself had bought for Keith upon his enrollment with the Garrison. A thermometer, a cold compress (just in case), and a bottle of fever reducer/pain killer. He had them all lined up on Keith’s nightstand by the time he emerged. 

His temperature read 100.2. Shiro shook a couple of pills out of the bottle and handed them over, making sure that Keith took both of them, then made sure he was as closely surrounded by blankets as he could be. 

“So,” he said once all of that was done, gently brushing his damp bangs away from his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Keith sighed, staring past Shiro’s head at the wall rather than at his face. “I know what you said before. But it’s been awhile since I’ve had to take care of myself, and you’re not going to be around forever, so I need to get used to it again.”

For a second he was confused before realization hit him like a flying kick to the head. Earlier that week he’d finally gotten the all clear to fly for the Kerberos mission. The actual launch wouldn’t be for another year at least, but already Keith was preparing for it. Preparing to be alone. 

“You won’t have to do that,” he said dully, head still spinning. “I’m not the only one here who cares about you. Adam will help you, or the school nurse if you get sick, or one of the professors.” 

Keith just turned his head away and said, “I’m tired.”

“Right.” Shiro took a shuddery breath. “Right, yeah. You should get some sleep.”

Without thinking too much about it he brushed Keith’s bangs back again, then leaned down to deposit a quick kiss on his heated forehead. 

“Sleep well, Keith. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He left just quickly enough to miss the tears that welled in Keith’s eyes. 

  
  
  



	3. You Don't Count as People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the childhood friends prompt.

Keith was very much regretting his decisions in life. Not just the one where he accepted Shiro’s invitation, but all the ones that led up to this moment. To him standing awkwardly in the corner of a strangers living room while Shiro bonded with the Holts in preparation for Kerberos.

_ Why did he even invite me?  _ Keith found himself wondering as the awkwardness began to press in on him.  _ I’m not going to Kerberos. I don’t need to know these people.  _ And, tinged with the most despair,  _ Why did I say yes?  _

A nudge against his leg pulled him out of his depressed spiral. When he looked down, he found a dog standing beside him, panting hot breath over his knee. He wasn’t sure what the breed was (French bulldog maybe?), but it wore a red collar, and when he cautiously unfolded his arms and stretched a hand down to it, gave him adoring eyes and licked his fingers. 

“Um, hi?” he murmured to it, keeping his voice down to avoid drawing the attention of the other people in the room. The dog nosed at his hand, trying to entice him to pet it, and Keith indulged it with a few scratches. After a few seconds he lifted his hand away, giving the animal the opportunity to go if it wished, but it only butted against his hand again and pointedly sat down. 

Well, the dog had spoken. A quick glance confirmed Shiro was still sitting on the couch chatting with Matt and Commander Holt, lounging back and not giving any indication that they were going to be leaving any time soon. So Keith knelt down to the dog’s level and allowed a few happy licks over his face.

The tag on the collar read  _ Bae Bae,  _ a name that made Keith snort a little bit to himself as he scratched behind the dog’s ears. 

“I know, the name’s kinda silly, huh?”

Keith jolted at the sudden voice. While he’d been focused on the dog someone had come up in front of him without him noticing. Caught off guard, his brain conveniently forgot every word he’d ever known.

The person, girl he now realized, didn’t seem to mind his lack of an answer. Instead she just knelt down across from him, keeping Bae Bae in the middle, and reached out a hand to pet her side. 

“She’s a good girl, though,” the girl added, then fell silent, giving Keith time to take in her features. She was younger than him, maybe a few years, and had the Holt auburn hair in a side ponytail. She didn’t seem particularly interested in meeting Keith’s eye, which was fine. He didn’t really want her to anyway. 

It took Keith a few minutes of silence and dog petting before he realized she wasn’t going to try to talk to him. The relief made his shoulders slump; finally, someone who wouldn’t ply him with questions about the Garrison, or his family, or his future, or whatever other mundane niceties they could think of. She just sat there, her full attention on Bae Bae, and eventually Keith felt safe enough to do the same. 

After a little while longer Bae Bae shifted and laid down, dropping her head onto Keith’s knee and closing her eyes contentedly. The girl chuckled a bit at whatever expression he was making. 

“She likes you.”

Keith swallowed. “Is-- that a good thing?” Immediately the question sounded stupid, but she only smiled. 

“Yes, it’s a good thing. Dogs can tell good people from bad ones, you know. It’s scientifically proven. I’m Katie by the way.”

Keith blinked in surprise. The last sentence had come out all in a rush, like she was trying to get it out before she changed her mind. 

“I’m, uh, Keith.”

Mentally he cringed, bracing for the inevitable “Uh, Keith” joke, but once again Katie defied his expectations and didn’t make it. She shifted her weight a bit and leaned back against the wall, glancing over the people still chattering away in the living room.

“They’re gonna be at it for a while,” she remarked. Not knowing what else to do Keith merely nodded, and she seemed content with that answer. The silence returned and this time Keith sunk into it more easily. He went back to petting Bae Bae, more softly now as she snoozed on his lap, and at length began to snore, making Katie give a soft laugh. 

Keith’s lip quirked upwards in response. Maybe coming here hadn’t been such a bad idea, after all. 

* * *

Shiro was worried. He was trying not to show it for Keith’s sake, but every time he stole a glance from the corner of his eye he was still just sitting there with the dog and Matt’s little sister, neither of them saying a word. The anxieties that began to well up (the ones Matt called his ‘Dad Instincts’) bubbled away in his gut as he tried to concentrate on his conversation with the commander. 

Were they not getting along? Was Keith uncomfortable? Maybe he shouldn’t have invited him-- God knows Keith didn’t warm up to people easily and even though Shiro had thought he needed more friends that weren’t him maybe this wasn’t the best way to go about it. Maybe--

“Stop worrying, Shiro,” Matt said to him in a stage whisper, accompanied by an elbow to the ribs. “They’re getting along fine.”

His eyes went to the two teenagers again, and he whispered back, “Are you sure? They’re not saying anything to each other.”

“Exactly,” answered Matt. “If Katie’s not talking, you know she’s comfortable.”

Shiro blinked, and suddenly saw them in a new light, as it were. Keith wasn’t all tensed up the way he’d been when they came in, arms crossed and shoulders drawn in and weight on the balls of his feet, ready to run. No, he was sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning back against the wall while he lazily pet the Holt’s dog, who was asleep in his lap. And beside him was Matt’s sister, fiddling with her phone. 

As he watched, Katie chuckled to herself and scooted an inch closer to Keith, making Bae Bae stir in her sleep. She said something to get Keith’s attention and showed him what was on the screen. 

And Keith laughed. Actually laughed, not a polite huff or amused quirk of the lips, but an actual laugh. A quiet one, but still.

“See?” Matt said in his ear. “I told you. Takes an introvert to know an introvert.”

Shiro shook his head, but the movement was fond.

“Yeah. Guess so.” 


	4. And They Were Roommates!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the clothes sharing prompt

Keith was just in his room, at his desk, doing his homework and minding his own business, when suddenly the door burst open. In came Lance, in a flustered rush, as usual-- Keith had been listening to him murmur to himself through the wall for the last hour and a half.

Lance didn’t even stop to say anything to him. He just charged across the room and yanked open one of Keith’s wardrobe drawers, beginning to rifle through it while Keith stared in confused irritation.

“Uh, can I help you?”

Lance made a sound of frustration and spun to face him, raking both hands through his hair. 

“You own a leather jacket, right?”

“Um… yeah?”

Lance’s harried expression melted into relief. “Oh, good, where?”

Keith spun his chair away from his desk to face him more fully. “Why do you need to know?”

“Come on, Keith,” said Lance with a dramatic eye roll. “I’ve been talking about it for a week! I have a date tonight, duh.”

“Oh, right.” To be honest he hadn’t forgotten, he just didn’t get the connection between the two events. “But what does that have to do with my jacket?”

“I need to know where it is so that I can wear it  _ on the date.  _ Again, duh?”

Keith didn’t think there was anything about this conversation that could be summarized by the word duh. He was pretty confused, actually. 

“But why do you need mine? You own, like, a million jackets.”

Now Lance put his hands on his hips. “Yeah, but they’re all blazers or hoodies.”

“What’s wrong with those?”

“Becaaaaaaause, Keith. Nyma likes bad boys.”

“So why’d she go out with you?”

Lance’s face fell, and Keith cringed, getting to his feet but not sure how to complete the motion besides just standing there with his hands halfway out from his body.

“I’m-- sorry, that was rude, wasn’t it?”

Lance gave a dejected nod.

“Sorry, sorry, that’s not what I meant. What I mean is that shouldn’t you be acting like yourself on a date? Not trying to fit what you think they want?”

“Yeah, I guess.” He wouldn’t meet Keith’s eyes. “But I still want the jacket.”

Keith let out a huffed breath. He still didn’t get it, but he would concede that Lance knew more about dating than he did. Much, much more. So if he wanted a jacket to wear… what the hell. 

“Ok, ok. Here.” He crossed the room, back to the tiny dorm closet, which he slid open and dove into. Most of his clothes were black, and therefore blended together in the shadows of the small alcove, but he managed to identify the old black leather jacket by touch and pulled it out. He hadn’t worn it in a while, and for some reason felt a sharp spike of protectiveness over it.

“Why did you choose me to ask?” he said, not looking up and hoping the question could remain neutral. “Shiro owns some too.”

“Keith, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Shiro is built like a fucking tank. I, meanwhile, am an anthropomorphized bean pole.”

That made him laugh, and the sudden block in his throat loosened a bit. He turned and extended the hangar to Lance, who took the jacket with eager hands and a happy smile on his lips.

“Just be careful with it,” Keith found himself saying. “It belonged to my dad.”

He watched in real time as Lance’s touch turned reverent. “Oh, you don’t have to let me wear it if it’s special, I can go look in Shiro’s room--”

“It’s alright, Lance.” Despite his initial annoyance, a slight smile curved his lips. “I already said yes. Just don’t spill anything on it and we’re good.”

“Will do.” With a mock salute, Lance gathered up the jacket in his arms and made for the door. “Thanks Keith!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he answered as he returned to his desk chair. “Be home by eleven or “dad” will be worried.”

“Fight the power!” was the muffled response, and Keith chuckled to himself one more time before turning his attention back to his homework assignment. 

If anything could be said about living with Lance, it would certainly never be  _ boring.  _


	5. Two Can Keep a Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Soulmate AU prompt

When he met his soulmate, Shiro didn’t notice at first. The sleeves on his orange blazer were long enough to cover his mark, and he didn’t realize until he got home that evening that it had changed. The old dull black he’d lived with all his life was now a bright, brilliant red. 

His first emotion was despair. He’d interacted with so many people that day-- Garrison officers and school officials and teachers and  _ hundreds  _ of kids, most of whose names he didn’t even remember. How on Earth was he supposed to figure out who it was?

Shiro found himself shuffling out of the room, going into the kitchen where his boyfriend was cooking dinner. 

“Hey, Takashi, how was your day?”

Wordlessly, Shiro thrust out his left wrist, and when Adam’s eyes fell to it his smile plummeted. 

He looked at it for a second blankly, as Shiro had done, then asked, “Who is it?”

“I don’t know.”

Adam abandoned the pan on the stove to pull Shiro into a hug. He accepted it and pressed his nose into Adam’s shoulder, but all the while his mind whirled with helpless confusion.

He and Adam knew their soulmarks didn’t match. They hadn’t changed color when they met, and the shapes didn’t compliment each other at all-- Adam’s was thin and looped, like an infinity sign, while Shiro’s was a jagged circle with a hole in the middle, like a bolt of lightning eating itself-- but they decided to start a relationship anyway. After all, platonic soul marks existed. Shiro’s friend Matt was bound to his little sister.

_ “It doesn’t matter,” Adam had insisted the night they’d kissed for the first time, eyes ablaze, “I don’t care what the universe says. I want to be with you.” _

But that wasn’t what was bothering Shiro now. 

“Even if I find them,” he murmured into Adam’s shoulder, “what then?”

Adam knew what he meant and gave him a squeeze, but it did little to relieve the heaviness in Shiro’s gut. 

He was running on borrowed time. The illness was spreading, eating away at him, and within six years his life would be effectively over. How was that fair, to find his soulmate just to make them go through that?

“It’ll be ok, Takashi.”

He didn’t say how. Shiro wasn’t sure he believed him, but he nodded anyway and allowed Adam to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Come on, let’s get your mind off of it, hm?”

He went back to cooking dinner, and for the rest of the night Shiro would try to follow his advice, but every flash of red would draw his thoughts back to the problem of his soulmate. Platonic or not, Shiro was going to break their heart. And in that case…

Maybe it would be better if they never met again. 

* * *

They did meet again. Several times, in fact, without Shiro ever realizing until nearly a month later. 

He’d finally gotten Keith cleared to attend the Garrison, under the stipulation that he would serve as the kid’s mentor. They were at the uniform shop getting him fitted when Shiro saw it.

Keith had to take his hoodie off to be measured, and for the first time he noticed the small mark on the inside of his right wrist. A spiked circle, all sharp edges, and when the light caught it, it shone an iridescent purple. 

Shiro was floored.  _ This  _ was his soulmate? This angry, defensive thirteen-year-old boy? There was no way. It had to be some sort of cosmic joke. 

He didn’t say anything about it then. He already knew Keith was a flighty kid who already had enough abandonment issues as it was. 

And as the months went on, as he slowly earned his way past Keith’s many defenses, he continued to keep their bond a secret. Shiro just couldn’t do that to him. Once you got past the rough exterior Keith was such a sweet, caring person-- he couldn’t hurt him by revealing they were soulmates only to die on him a few years later. That wouldn’t be fair-- Keith had already lost so many people. 

Despite his growing fondness for Keith, Shiro still half-thought that the universe had made a mistake in bonding them. The age gap alone was suspect.

It wasn’t until nearly a year after they met that his thoughts changed. It wasn’t until Keith finally accepted a hug from him, when he’d folded like origami paper into his arms, that he started to think the universe had the right idea, after all.

But he still didn’t say anything, even as they grew closer, and even as Shiro felt their soul bond beginning to form. He knew this was another time bomb waiting to explode; eventually the bond would grow enough that Keith would realize what it was, but still he kept his mouth shut.

Really, it had reached a point where he didn’t know how to bring it up.

Adam disapproved. He’d been disapproving of Shiro’s choices for awhile now-- Shiro was feeling the friction between them. Smooth infinity against jagged edges. 

Another burning fuse. 

* * *

Eventually the day came when Shiro couldn’t keep the secret any longer. And it came more dramatically than he’d ever imagined.

He was at lunch. In the midst of the quiet, routine day, he was slowly becoming aware of something unusual. 

Over the months he’d gotten used to the feeling of the forming soul bond. Usually it was quiet, just a gentle hum in the background, with an occasional ping of emotion.But today the hum was different. Not contented, more like…

Shiro frowned when he found the word. Anxious. Why was Keith anxious? He tried to remember if he had any tests or simulator trials that day, but drew a blank.

The bond tightened, like it had stretched taut, and then pinged with something that made Shiro’s breath catch. 

Fear. He’d known Keith for a year and a half and he’d never felt  _ fear  _ like that from him.

Without thinking about it Shiro reached for his tablet, pulling up the copy of Keith’s schedule with minutely trembling fingers. 

One thirty. He was supposed to be in the middle of flight physics, taught by Adam of all people. He moved to send him a message, but before he tapped the button the tablet vibrated, making him jump.

A message from Adam. 

_ Hey, did you take Keith out today? _

His heart leapt into his throat, but he swallowed it back down and answered.

_ No, is he not in class? _

**Adam is typing. **

Shiro took a deep breath. 

_ No, he’s not.  _

At the same moment the bond pulsed again, this time with something more akin to panic, and Shiro’s answering rush of adrenaline sent him to his feet and out of the break room. He didn’t know where he was going-- he was just following where the bond took him.

It was pulling against his chest like a living thing, humming insistently and every few seconds pinging, like a cell phone looking for service, and Shiro was the tower. 

He followed it to the far end of campus, power walking and not noticing the strange looks he was receiving. It took him to a staircase, little used because of it’s distance from the rest of the Garrison, then began to stretch upwards, pinging urgently until Shiro felt lightheaded.

“Ok, ok, I’m going,” he muttered aloud as he began to climb. 

He went up, and up, and up-- four stories in total, but when he reached the top of the building there was nothing but a short hallway and a maintenance closet. The bond pulled the opposite way, out the metal door that lead to the roof. For a moment Shiro paused in confusion-- all the roof access doors were supposed to be locked-- but then the bond went  _ pingpingping  _ and he rushed forward. 

The door wasn’t locked. It swung open easily at his touch, the bright sunlight outside blinding him for a few seconds. Hot wind lapped at his cheeks as he blinked away the sunspots.

The roof was empty except for the electrical closet, made of thin metal and barely large enough for a man to fit inside. 

The electrical closet with a length of rebar forced through the door handle. 

He noticed it just as the bond went numb. 

Shiro dropped into a dead sprint, crossing the roof in seconds and pulling the rebar free with a clang and a metallic  _ shhhhhhing.  _ He threw it to the side without noting where it landed and yanked the door open. 

And there was Keith, a rumpled, sweaty mess, slumped where he’d pressed against the black plastic of the breakers to avoid the heat of the metal around him. He was unconscious, Shiro realized upon falling to his knees beside him, and when he pulled his body to lean against his shoulder Keith’s hair fell aside to reveal a black eye underneath. 

He wasn’t surprised to find him like this, it had been nearly forty five minutes since the bond starting acting up and that was more than enough time for the metal box and the desert heat to do it’s dirty work, but that didn’t mean he was calm. Far from it. 

He was, however, relieved to notice how he was still sweating. It meant he hadn’t quite progressed into heat stroke yet, but that time was rapidly running down. He had to get him inside where it was cool, and he had to do it  _ now.  _

He picked up Keith with relative ease (he was still too scrawny for his age) and hustled back across the roof, shoving the door open with his shoulder. The blast of chill air pushed Shiro’s bangs back from his forehead as he entered, and the rapidly cooling sweat under his collar had him shivering as he knelt to prop Keith against the wall, as comfortably as he could, before digging in the pocket of his blazer. He’d left his tablet in the break room, but he should still have… 

Finally his grasping fingers found the smooth surface of his phone. He tapped out a quick message to Adam, telling him to call the nurse’s office and tell them he was coming, before shoving it back into his pocket. Hopefully Adam would see the message; if not, Shiro would just have to be quick enough to get Keith there before his condition worsened.

At the moment the question of how Keith had wound up this way hadn’t yet occurred to him. The hints were there in the black eye and the rebar used to keep the door closed, but in his panic he hadn’t connected the dots. All he could think about was getting Keith safe, getting him better. 

He stirred when Shiro touched him again, his head lolling on the wall Shiro had propped him against and letting out a tired groan. 

“Keith?” Shiro barely dared to breathe. “You with me?”

Keith’s eyes slitted open, gaze roving blearily for a few seconds before settling on Shiro. Briefly he felt the bond give a tiny pulse. 

“Sh’ro?” he mumbled, and the bond began to ever-so-faintly hum. Shiro couldn’t tell if the relief flooding his ribcage was his or Keith’s. 

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m gonna take you to the nurse, ok? Can you stay awake that long?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Ok, I’m gonna move on three. One, two, three.” 

Keith’s face went alarmingly pale when Shiro stood and for a moment he froze, suddenly remembering that nausea was a symptom of heat exhaustion, but thankfully he didn’t throw up, and Shiro was able to start back down the stairs. 

“How’d you… how’d you know?” Keith asked, his voice almost drowned out by the thunk of Shiro’s boots on the stairs. 

And Shiro, with dread pressing against his throat, didn’t answer. 

* * *

He didn’t have to deal with it for a while. He got Keith to the nurses office and there was an immediate flurry of activity as the medical staff tried to cool him down and determine how bad the situation was at the same time. Then, as soon as Keith was mostly stable and coherent, Iverson had come down to get the story from them. 

Keith recounted how some cadets from his piloting course had come to get revenge for him making them do drills for the third time that week. He flushed red the whole time, probably expecting Iverson to be angry with him since he was the one who assigned the drills, but the commander merely looked troubled and said nothing about it. 

Then Shiro told his part of the story, leaving out the parts about the bond and merely saying Adam had told him Keith was gone and he’d looked until he found him. Whether Iverson or Keith bought the lie he couldn't tell. They both had infuriatingly good poker faces, damn them. 

Only after all of that was Shiro left alone with Keith. The nurses hadn’t prescribed any hospital time, just a few days off of class to rest, so Shiro was bustling around the room collecting Keith’s things to be brought back to his room. Keith waited until Shiro’s back was turned before he spoke. 

“We’re bound, aren’t we?”

Shiro froze. He wasn’t sure how to answer at first, leaving the silence between them to grow thick until impatient Keith prodded at him again.

“That’s how you knew where to find me, isn’t it?”

Again Shiro’s lips seemed sewn shut… until the soulbond reacted. It sent chilly apprehension rolling down his arms, not dissimilar to how it had when he’d been looking. The realization that he was the one making Keith feel that way broke the spell, and he turned to face him.

Keith was pale, his hands fisted into the blanket laying across his legs, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes glittered with determination. There was no way Shiro would be able to look at him now and lie. He just wasn’t capable of it.

“Yes.”

Keith took a breath. Not much was showing on his face, but the soulbond betrayed him. It rang with joy, yet still was tinged with sadness. Resignation. Most likely he too had realized he wouldn’t have Shiro for much longer. 

“Can I see?”

Wordlessly Shiro made his way to the cot, and just like that night in the kitchen so many months ago, held out his wrist. The orange Garrison blazer rode up, exposing the pale skin and the jagged red loop there. Keith’s gasp sounded strangled. The bond pulsed.

Keith, slowly, held up his right wrist next to Shiro’s. For the first time he got a clear view of Keith’s mark, at the razor edges that fit between Shiro’s like matching gears, and the deep black that glinted purple in the lamplight. There was no longer any lingering doubt in either of their minds-- it was clear the marks matched. Keith’s was the color of Shiro’s hair, and Shiro’s the color of Keith’s favorite hoverbike. 

After a few moments of starstruck staring, Keith swallowed and lowered his hand, folding it back along his abdomen like he was giving himself a hug. 

“I understand,” he murmured, avoiding Shiro’s eyes, “if you don’t want this to… be a thing, I guess. You’ve got Adam already, and I can’t really do the whole… romance thing.” 

Shiro frowned, confused, but Keith plowed forward, the bond seeping sorrow as he spoke. 

“We can just go back to normal and pretend this never happened. Or if you don’t want the-- the bond to get, um, stronger, we can-- I mean, you can just--” He hiccuped a bit, which Shiro recognized with horror as a sign of impending tears. “You can just pretend you never met me at all.”

This time when the bond surged Shiro knew exactly who the emotion came from. Keith physically jumped at the rush of anger, but before he could get scared Shiro was talking. 

“No, I don’t want that! I didn’t hide the bond because I didn't want it, Keith. I hid it because I didn’t think it would be fair to you to have me as a soulmate.” 

Keith stared at him, wide-eyed, and couldn’t seem to find anything to say. 

“It’s not fair,” Shiro began, then interrupted himself with a bitter laugh, “to have a soulmate with an expiration date.”

His expression of bafflement transformed into a frown. “We all have expiration dates, Shiro. No one lives forever.”

“But mine--”

“I think it would be worth it,” Keith blurted out. “Even if you only have a few years left. So if you… if you actually want to… I mean, I can’t do romance, but--”

“It’s ok, Keith. I’m pretty sure this bond isn’t romantic.” Shiro couldn’t help smiling at how red Keith’s face turned, but both of them could feel through the bond what was happening on the inside. Some disbelief, some doubt, but mostly acceptance. Acceptance and joy. 

Keith lunged forward, surprising Shiro with an unexpected hug, and as he laughed and reciprocated the embrace, he mentally thanked the universe. 

This time, it had really gotten it right. 


	6. Broken Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the hand holding prompt

This mission briefing was taking goddamn  _ forever.  _ It had to have been at least two hours since they’d all dragged themselves down to the lounge, and even Pidge, who was used to sitting motionless for long periods of time, was beginning to feel her butt fall asleep. Lance’s attention was flagging, even with the assistance of the alien stim toy he’d found at the space mall. Hunk had his chin leaned on his hand with his eyes glassy, like he was asleep with his eyes open, and even Shiro was shifting tiredly from foot to foot and glancing at the door every so often. 

But the one who had caught Pidge’s attention was Keith, sitting directly on her right. He alone looked like he was paying attention to what Allura and Coran were saying, and he had his elbows on his knees, rocking back and forth ever so slightly, an indication that he was actually focused on the task at hand. 

None of that is what Pidge what watching. Instead her eyes were on his hands. He wore his gloves, as usual, and on both hands he had his index fingers curled, methodically picking at the edges of his thumb nails. Picking at the skin, peeling it back from the nail bed. Every so often he’d switch to another finger, using his other hand to pick at the skin around his other nails, and sometimes he’d pause to bite off a portion of a nail before continuing. 

It was a stim they’d all noticed him doing. Lance gave him shit for how awful his nails always looked, Shiro quietly tried to remind him to use a different stim, and Hunk always fussed and worried that the small wounds and peeled off layers of skin would get infected. 

Pidge so far hadn’t said anything about it. Her own habit of biting her fingers when she was thinking usually left her with bandages wrapped around them, so she didn’t think she had much room to talk. 

But as she watched today, during this absolutely mind numbing mission briefing, she saw Keith raise his thumb to his mouth to bite at it, then frown and pull it away, and this time Pidge was close enough to see the droplet of blood welling up along the edge of his thumbnail. He twisted his mouth at it, almost a grimace, then apparently elected to ignore it and pick at a different nail, instead. 

Well, that just wouldn’t do. She knew from experience how much it hurt to do things with gnawed up fingertips. Keith would be regretting this stim as soon as he had to grip his bayard again. 

So before she had time to talk herself out of it, she reached out and grabbed his wrist. Keith jolted, instinctively jerking his arm back, but Pidge kept her hold, changing her grip so that their fingers were threaded together and he couldn’t pick at his thumbs anymore. 

His confused gaze burned into the side of her head and she felt her cheeks flushing, but Pidge stubbornly kept her eyes on Allura, and eventually Keith’s body lost its tension. 

They sat like that, hand in hand, for the rest of the briefing. She could feel when his fingers tightened, automatically trying to pick, but Pidge’s hand prevented it. Out of the corner of her eye she watched his other hand. He could’ve continued to pick on that hand, but instead he ran the pad of his thumb over his knuckle. The stim he used when Shiro scolded him for the picking. 

He was putting in an effort. 

Eventually the dreaded briefing ended. Lance fled the lounge like a bolt of light, Hunk close on his heels. Allura waved Shiro over to discuss something on the bridge, and Coran left the room muttering something about dinner. 

Keith avoided eye contact as he began to get to his feet, but was stopped by Pidge, still not letting go of his hand, and his brow furrowed. 

“Uh, Pidge?”

“Just a second.” She was fishing around in her hoodie pocket. She could’ve sworn she still had some in here-- aha! Her free hand emerged clutching one of the small adhesive bandages Coran had given her for her bites. Kind of like band-aids, but softer and a thousand times more malleable. 

Keith’s face turned as red as his jacket. “You don’t have to do that, it’s not that bad--”

“Shush,” said Pidge, only half focused as she attempted to peel the back off the bandage with one hand. “Either I do it now or Hunk notices and makes a big deal out of it.”

He winced. Evidently he preferred her way, because he didn’t make any further arguments or attempts to pull away from her.

She got the bandage on, but didn’t release him immediately. She had a few questions for him, and as long as holding his hand kept him there to answer them, she’d continue. 

“Didn’t Shiro get you some of those stim toys that Lance uses? Why aren’t you using those?”

He still wasn’t looking at her. Eye contact was hard for him, especially when he had to answer questions about himself. 

“I do use them. Just… not all the time.”

Pidge could read between the lines. 

“No one is going to think it’s weird. Lance uses them all the time.”

“I know,” he said with a sigh, and his free arm came up around his torso, like he was trying to cross his arms. Pidge still didn’t let go. “I’m just— I don’t know. Used to hiding it, I guess.” 

She squeezed his hand. “Well, I’m gonna start reminding you. You have to give your poor fingers a break.”

He snorted at her, but there was a little smile on his lips. 

Pidge counted it as a win.


	7. Oh My God, They Were Roommates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the mistaken for a couple prompt

“Dude, seriously, just choose already.”

“I really don’t care, Lance.”

“Well I’m not gonna choose.”

“I chose what we did for lunch!”

“Yeah, and now you’re gonna have to choose for dinner, too.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Hey, without me you probably wouldn’t even remember to eat.”

“That’s entirely beside the point.”

Their voices quieted a bit as they entered the convenience store. The place was busy, as it usually was in the midst of finals week when no one had the energy to spare for cooking. 

Keith rolled his eyes as the two of them made their way to the back of the store where the drinks were stored. His backpack was heavy and his head hurt, and he really hated doing this whole argument with Lance every time they went out for a meal. 

“This is why we can’t go out without Shiro,” Lance grouched as he pulled open one of the fridge doors. “We’re awful at decision making. Usual?”

“Mhm,” Keith answered absentmindedly as he checked his email. Lance grabbed the can of Keith’s favorite energy drink (the kind that tasted like the color red) and passed it to him before moving two fridges down to get his customary Arizona Tea. 

“You wanna get something for Shiro?”

“Sure.” Keith retrieved Shiro’s iced coffee, then they turned to go back to the front of the store to pay. Unfortunately Lance took the opportunity to return to their previous conversation. 

“Seriously dude, you need to choose.”

Keith huffed. “Fine. Let’s go to the pizza place.”

“We ate there last night,” Lance whined.

“So?”

“I don’t understand how your autism brain can do the same things over and over.”

“And I don’t understand why your ADHD brain can’t.”

Lance got to the counter first, putting a pause on their conversation as he paid for his tea. Keith was respectfully silent as he did so, but Lance didn’t extend the same courtesy to him.

“Keeeeeith, we still need to choose.”

“I did, and you didn’t like my choice.”

He threw back his head and groaned. “Fuck this, I’m just gonna go find a thing of pasta or a frozen pizza or something.”

“I thought you didn’t want pizza again,” Keith called after him as he walked away. 

“It’s different!” he yelled back. 

Keith rolled his eyes again, and only then did he notice the cashier giving him a soft, amused smile. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, fumbling for his wallet, but the girl only chuckled. 

“It’s ok. You and your boyfriend are so cute.”

_ Ah, hell.  _ Keith managed to both find his card and smother his scowl, but it was painful, and once the card had been swiped and passed back to him, he summoned up a semi-polite answer. 

“He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just roommates.”

She giggled as she tore off the receipt and pushed the drinks back to him. 

“Sure, sure,” she said, then threw him a wink. Awkwardly Keith picked up his drinks and shuffled to stand by the door until Lance returned and bought his food. 

He didn’t bring it up until they were out of the store.

“The cashier thought we were dating.”

“Damnit, not again.”

“Yeah.” Keith popped the tab on his drink took a long swig. Ah, sweet, sweet caffeine. “Besides, even if I did date, I’d rather date Shiro. No offense.”

Lance laughed. “I don’t blame you. Can you imagine us dating? We’d tear each others throats out.”

“We already do that.”

“Touche. But it would be even worse.”

“I’m not sure it can be worse.”

“Touche again.”

“I’m not sure you’re using that word correctly.” 

“Oh fuck off.”

Keith laughed out loud, the sound ricocheting off the buildings around them and bouncing down the street. Finals week was pretty brutal, and he’d be glad when it was over, but maybe it wasn’t all bad. 


	8. Dressed to Impress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the dancing prompt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm having so much fun with this event yall)

“Parties suck.”

Keith glanced down at Pidge, standing at his side. She had her arms crossed in a way that enhanced her huffy tone-- Keith’s arms were crossed too, but he just liked to stand that way. Pidge only did it when she was annoyed. 

“Yeah, they do,” he said in quiet agreement. He could have fun at parties sometimes, like the first one in the Castle (before everything had blown up, obviously), but he didn’t like the ones that made them dress up and act polite and debate diplomacy while choking down unfamiliar food and drink. This one happened to be the latter. 

Pidge made a sound of frustration and yanked on one of the tight sleeves on her dress. Light green, with skirts in the style of leaves; Allura had the Castle make all of them new outfits for the occasion, but Pidge didn’t seem to like hers very much. 

“I hate tight sleeves,” she muttered under her breath with another pull on the sleeve. Keith could sympathize. He disliked things that were tight on the front of his neck, which the suit Allura had given him definitely was. 

He leaned his back to the wall and swept his gaze over the banquet hall. The actual diplomacy had concluded a few hours earlier, followed by the ever popular post-agreement party. The center of the room was a crowd of people and flowing clothes in a rainbow of colors, dancing to the strange alien instruments that filled the hall with sound. 

Every few seconds he caught a glance of one of the others. Allura in pink, Shiro in black, Lance in blue, Hunk in yellow. They’d all accepted invitations to dance (though under Allura’s stern gaze in the cases of Hunk and Shiro) and now flickered in and out of sight as the dances progressed. 

Allura had been very clear in their briefing that they weren’t to refuse any dance partners. To do so was considered a massive insult in these aliens’ culture, and they’d gone far enough as to spend a whole movement learning the dances that would be taking place. Similar to Earth waltzes, though with more room for Jesus in between the partners. 

Pidge and Keith hadn’t been enthused about the idea, and thankfully between Keith’s intimidating demeanor and Pidge’s A class resting bitch face, neither of them had yet been approached. 

Keith had the feeling their luck wouldn’t last forever, and sure enough as he was doing a headcount (see previous note on exploding parties) someone stepped into his line of sight.

Keith blinked, shaking his head a bit in irritation, and found one of the local aliens looming over them. Looming was really the only word to describe it; the local species was tall and broad-shouldered, and this one was standing over Pidge, dwarfing her in his shadow. 

“Green Paladin,” they said in a low rumble, “May I have the pleasure of a dance?”

Pidge went rigid beside him. Keith tried to repress the urge to scowl. She hadn’t told him directly, but when they’d been practicing he’d gotten the impression that Pidge hated being touched by strangers at least as much as he did, if not more. She could only practice for half an hour at a time before she shoved whoevers hands off of her, and that was with people she knew and trusted. 

“Um,” said Pidge with a nervous gulp, “Well, I, uh…”

She didn’t want to. He knew it, the alien knew it, but they weren’t backing down. They just seemed to be waiting, knowing she would have to fold if she didn’t want to make a scene. 

And  _ that  _ was not going to fly.

“Sorry,” he said abruptly, making Pidge jump when he gripped her elbow. “She already promised to dance with me next.”

The alien frowned. “But you are not dancing, Paladin.”

“Taking a short break.” Keith’s voice came out tight even to his own ears, but he kept his expression as impassive as possible and didn’t back down.

After a few more seconds of tense staring, the alien finally gave a huff an annoyance and strode away, leaving them in peace. 

“Thanks Keith,” Pidge murmured as he let go of her arm and returned to his position. 

“No problem. But I don’t think that excuse’ll work again.”

She was quiet for a moment, brow furrowed in thought. Then, suddenly, she grabbed him by the hand and began to pull him towards the dance floor.

“What-- Pidge? What are you--”

“You’re right,” she interrupted briskly, “That excuse will only work once. But other people can’t ask either of us to dance if we’re already dancing, and honestly I’d rather have to do this with you than anyone else.”

Keith felt his cheeks flush and knew he was probably as red as his jacket, but went along with it anyway. 

The dance floor was closely packed with people, the air compressed and warmed between so many moving bodies. It was a little smothering, but Keith clenched his teeth and for the moment was able to bear it. Pidge’s expression was similar when she finally stopped and turned to face him, but she had that familiar determined furrow in her brow that she got whenever she had to solve difficult coding problems. 

“Ok, let’s do this. Just put your hands on my shoulders, ok? Don’t touch my back.”

“I won’t,” promised Keith before gingerly reaching out to do as he was told. It felt awkward, especially with how short Pidge was compared to him, but she just gripped his elbows and ignored how strange it probably looked to everyone else.

“Remember the steps?”

Keith couldn’t resist snorting. “With how many times we ran through it? I could do it in my sleep.”

Pidge cracked a tiny grin. “Hopefully I won’t be that boring of a dance partner. Ok, ready? One, two, three…”

Dancing wasn’t Keith’s favorite activity. But he was decent at it, which helped. This one in particular felt like slower, more gentle swordplay minus the sword. 

Pidge was having more trouble. She could be quick and dexterous when she needed to be, but she wasn’t used to twisting and turning her body, so together they probably looked rather stiff and lilting. But it wasn’t so bad-- after a few minutes they began to sink into it and the drilled familiarity of the movements. 

Pidge kept her eyes focused on her feet, trying to make sure she didn’t misstep or stumble, leaving Keith staring at the top of her head. It wasn’t quite silent between them, it couldn’t be with all the noise in the room, but still he felt inexplicably awkward. Somehow he wound up blurting out the first thing that came into his mind. 

“Did anyone at the Garrison figure it out?”

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowed and searching. “Figure what out?”

“Who you were.” A drumbeat signalled a spin that he pulled Pidge into without thinking about it. When they were face to face again, she answered. 

“Not officially. I think some of them figured it out, but all my papers were in order so they couldn’t prove it.”

That prompted a smirk. “Bet it drove them crazy, huh?”

After that it was easier to make it through. They could let their bodies remember the steps and just focus on talking, exchanging jokes and chatting about nothing too important. Keith actually managed to lose track of time this way and didn’t realize how long they’d been dancing until the music stopped. 

Even better: the look on Shiro’s face when he spotted them coming off the dance floor together. 

Finally, after the alien leader’s parting remarks, the group headed back to the Castle. Pidge continued to linger at Keith’s side, and the Castle had just come into view when she turned to him and spoke, quietly as to not disturb the peace of the night that had fallen.

“From now on you’re my official party buddy,” she said, and offered her fist. 

Keith smiled and bumped his knuckles against hers. 

“Deal.” 


	9. Seeing is Believing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the hanahaki disease prompt

Keith didn’t believe it. 

Not when the news first came out, not when Adam tried to get him to go to the funeral, not when the grief counselors pulled him out of class. Not even when he’d been kicked out of the Garrison, left to fend for himself in the desert. He never believed what they’d said about Shiro. He didn’t believe he was dead. 

He made it the first two days out there not believing it. Then, on the third night, something cracked.

He’d wandered back to his dilapidated shack at sundown, sweaty and dusty from foraging for building supplies. The shack was in bad shape, and if he wanted to survive, he needed to get it fixed. He remembered that night, how he’d thought about the strange tightness he’d been feeling in his chest. He’d dismissed it as grief and anger. 

Then he woke up at midnight, coughing his lungs out. 

Still he didn’t believe it. 

He sat up in bed (or the lumpy couch that was serving as his bed) and hunched over his lap, feeling like something was caught in his throat. 

He didn’t believe it.

The taste of blood tinged his tongue, and still he didn’t believe it. 

It wasn’t until the petal emerged, floating down from his bloodied lips to the blanket, shining iridescent in the moonlight, that it finally came crashing down on him. 

Shiro was dead.

And soon, he would be, too. 

* * *

It wasn’t too hard to manage at first. For two weeks he only had one or two fits a day, some of which yielded only blood spatter and no petals. Even so Keith could feel it-- the insidious pressure behind his breastbone. The physical manifestation of his isolation, coiling in his lungs. Every night he dreamt of Shiro, floating alone through the cold, empty stars; or of himself, buried alive in the desert sand while the coyotes screamed in the background. Whether they screamed at him or for him, he could never tell, and every morning he woke gasping, another black petal stuck to the roof of his mouth. 

His days were spent in a listless haze. He didn’t exactly have anything to do, anyway. He drank and ate enough to live, but that was it. The rest of the hours he filled laying around, staring out the window or taking leisurely, wavering rides on the hover bike. What was he supposed to do? His whole world had been piloting and Shiro. 

Now he had nothing.

Week three was when it began to worsen. Two or three petals were rising now instead of just one, and the fits were lasting longer. 

It was also when he started to have the weird dreams. Not scary like the ones before, just… odd. He didn’t remember much when he woke up besides the image of a blue lioness prowling through the red cliffs that ringed the desert. Strange, but at least it gave him something else to think about.

Week four was when he started feeling it in the daytime, too. Some nameless urge to drive to the cliffs and explore. No, not just explore. Look. Search. Possibly find. What it was he wanted to search for or why, he had no clue. But at least resisting that urge distracted him from the growing pressure in his lungs.

Week five, he finally broke down and took the hover out to the cliffs. Was it possible he was simply crazy? Yes. But what did it matter? He wasn’t hurting anyone, and it wasn’t like he’d be around for long anyway. Already the sand around his makeshift house was littered with the black petals he tossed out the door every morning, and after every increasingly common coughing fit. 

Week six yielded nothing but empty dust and more bloodied petals. He kept searching.

Week seven gave him nothing. 

Week eight he tried another location, and still found nothing. 

Week nine was more of the same.

Week ten was when he stopped keeping track of the weeks. 

Time blurred together after that. Town was close enough that he could’ve driven there if he’d wanted to, found out the date and maybe buy some fresh groceries instead of canned, go to the doctor. He just didn’t see the point. 

Besides, he knew as well as anyone else that hanahaki couldn’t be cured. 

It felt like he was searching for months. Maybe he had been. All he had to mark the progression of time was by the progression of the pain in his chest. It had indeed advanced from mere pressure into an ache, and with how often the fits came, Keith was beginning to fear they’d kill him before he found what he was searching for. 

His throat was worn raw by all the coughing. He usually went through the trouble of cleaning up if he got blood somewhere in the house, except for at night, when he was too tired. The result was a large stain that had set into the wooden floor between the couch and the coffee table, marking the spot where he usually leaned over to cough out the petals. 

This was the last day he was going to search, he decided. The sun was far past the sweltering threshold, heatwave mirages spattered the cracking ground, and he’d barely slept at all the night before. There was a small pile of petals on the floor, being swirled around by the hot breeze. If he didn’t find whatever was pulling at him today, well, it would just be too bad for them. Even he couldn’t endure forever. 

But, as though someone had heard his ultimatum, that was the day that Keith stumbled upon the cave. The one deep in the labyrinth of cliffs and canyons with carvings all over the walls. The urge to search died at its entrance, and as he perused the carvings with the last flickers of the afternoon sun, a new urge was born. 

The need to understand. 

He spent days and nights in that cave, copying down carvings in sketches as well as taking photographs, studying them, staring at them, trying to make any kind of sense of what he was seeing. They were stories, he thought. Stories about a lion. Almost unconsciously he started thinking of it as a blue lion-- the same ones from his dreams. 

The set of carvings that interested him the most were the deepest, nearly at the back of the cave. They looked like a star map-- and it just so happened he had books about the stars stashed away in his shack, the remnants of the life his father had on that same plot of land. He hadn’t touched them in nearly a decade, but the mystery of the lion broke through his fear of remembering the past. 

It took him a while to figure it out, even with the assistance of the dust laden books, but he got it eventually. The carving was a calendar… for a day that hadn’t happened yet. 

Finally he went to town, for the sole purpose of figuring out how far away that day was. 

The answer was three weeks.

Something lit up in him then, buzzing beneath his skin like a live wire. Logically he knew it probably didn’t mean anything. He didn’t know how old the carvings were-- it was completely within the realm of possibility that they were a hoax played by some random rock climber. Even if they were ancient, that didn’t guarantee that the calendar marked anything special that could still mean something for him. Maybe it was just a holiday, or that was as far as they cared to make the calendar go. 

Fortunately, logic had long since left the building. 

He prepared as best he could for whatever was going to happen. The hanahaki had never stopped worsening, and over the last few weeks he’d had to really push himself to make it out to the cave; the growth in his lungs made it hard to breathe, hard to hike, and it felt like every part of him ached down to the bones. Not to mention the sleep deprivation and the awful coughing fits that now took over ten minutes to subside.

But he was determined. He wasn’t going to let it take him, not just yet. He would live long enough to see what happened on the day the calendar marked, and after that he’d be more than happy to choke to death on the petals. 

The last five days before the event Keith couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. He laid there on the couch, blankets pushed halfway to the floor and tangled around one of his ankles, listening to the empty silence of the desert and the rasp of his own breath. Any moment he expected the final bloom to open and close his airways completely. If anyone ever found his bones after, they would see the vines twining around his ribs and know what killed him-- hopeless love. Loving someone who wouldn’t, or couldn’t, love him back. 

But something remarkable happened. For probably the first time in his life, Keith got lucky. The marked day arrived, and the death blossom hadn’t yet bloomed. So he forced himself up from his bed and into his clothes, and that day he spent sitting outside on the porch, just watching. 

As far as he could tell, everything was still normal. The desert was just as empty and quiet as ever, the cliffs loomed against the sky as they always did, and nothing but clouds passed overhead. 

Still, he watched. 

The sun went down, tingeing the undersides of the clouds fiery orange and bloody red and bruised purple. 

Still, he waited.

Night fell. The stars emerged from their velvet curtain, the ones he had seen calculated so precisely on the cave walls. He looked for the Lion amongst the constellations and couldn’t find it. 

He didn’t stir from his spot.

The sand below him was darkened with blood. All around him petals rustled as the wind drew them along. The ache was getting worse, and it felt like something was caught in his throat, like a pill that hadn’t been swallowed quite right. 

Keith was almost asleep, leaning against the porch pillar, when he saw it. The golden streak that tore across the sky.

He watched with disbelieving eyes as it fell down, down, down towards the Earth. It wasn’t just a shooting star-- it would’ve dissipated already if it was. This one just got bigger and bigger until finally it hit, sending up a plume of brown dust in its wake.

It fell close enough to him that he felt the shockwave in the ground. It shook him enough to get him to stand, using the pillar to pull himself up. Whatever had just fallen, the Garrison was going to be swarming all over it soon, and he had to get there first. 

He had to know. 

* * *

Pidge was still a bit hazy when they made it back to the mystery shack. She was shaking with adrenaline-- she couldn’t tell if it was from the chase or the dive off of the cliff-- so she wasn’t much help in getting the fallen pilot off of the hover and into the house. Thankfully Lance and the other boy, Keith, seemed to have it well in hand. 

Well, it  _ seemed  _ that way, all the way until they laid Shiro down on the ratty couch. Then Keith crumbled to the floor beside it, his knees hitting the wood with a dull  _ thunk,  _ all while he still kept his grip on Shiro’s metal arm. Like he’d disappear if he let go for a second. 

“Woah, dude, are you--” Lance began, starting to reach out. He recoiled when Keith snapped his head up and revealed the tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Get out!” he snarled. He clutched Shiro’s arm closer to his chest and gave a few ragged coughs. “All of you get out!”

Lance of course took immediate offense, but before he could open his mouth Pidge latched onto his wrist and pulled. She’d just noticed something wedged in between the floorboards beside Keith’s leg, and although it was hard to tell for sure in the dark, she had the feeling that she knew what is was.

“Come on, Lance,” she murmured when he shot her an impetuous look. “Just give them a second.”

He huffed and complained, but did eventually follow Pidge outside to the porch. Hunk was still kneeling in the dust next to the hover, recovering from the bout of motion sickness brought on by their insane cliff dive, and Lance went over to check on him. But Pidge remained by the porch, studying the ground in front of it intently. 

There was a darker patch right next to one of the porch pillars, and there were small black things dotting the earth all around the shack, flitting about in the wind like they were made of paper. She retrieved one from where it had gotten stuck against a rock, and the moment she raised it to her eye she knew. 

“Guys,” she called to the boys, “Guys, come look at this.”

Hunk didn’t move, so she went to them, holding up the object against the moonlight so that they could see. 

“It’s a petal,” said Lance with an impatient puff of breath. “What about it?”

“We’re in the desert, there aren’t very many flowers,” answered Hunk. Apparently the motion sickness was fading. Lance frowned thoughtfully and peered at the black petal more closely.

“Well how’d it get here then?”

“They’re everywhere.” Pidge’s voice came out flat and hollow. She didn’t even know this guy, but it was impossible for news like this not to feel like a punch in the gut. “He has hanahaki.”

Instantly Lance’s annoyed expression washed away into shock. Hunk made a low, concerned sound in his throat. As one, all three of their heads turned to stare at the shack, as though they could see through the walls at its inhabitants. 

“Jeez,” Lance muttered dimly. 

Pidge couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

* * *

Keith sat on the floor and waited for Shiro to wake up, never once taking his eyes off of him. He almost didn’t believe it, almost didn’t  _ dare  _ to, maybe he’d finally lost his mind entirely or the hanahaki had finished him off and now he was in the afterlife, but his body told him otherwise. He could feel the chill metal of Shiro’s prosthetic under his fingers, slowly warming with his body heat. If he stretched out his other hand he could feel Shiro’s pulse thrumming away under his palm. His chest moved rhythmically with his breath, up and down and up again, and Keith couldn’t have stopped crying if his life depended on it. 

He didn’t know if Shiro’s return would stop the disease, and he didn’t care. Shiro was alive, and that was more than enough. 

It took several hours for the Garrison’s tranquilizers to wear off. But eventually Shiro began to stir. He gave a little disoriented groan, turned his head a couple of times, twitched his metal fingers, then opened his eyes. 

For a moment he just stared at Keith blankly, like he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Then he blinked again.

“Keith?”

That broke him. What had previously been silent tears erupted into violent sobs as he pitched forward into Shiro’s chest, clinging to him with all the strength he could muster. It only got worse when he felt Shiro’s arms wrap around him. 

For the first few minutes neither of them said anything. Keith couldn’t have managed it, and Shiro was probably still groggy and confused. But gradually his grip on Keith tightened, and eventually he spoke.

“I’m here,” was all he said. It was probably as much for himself as it was for Keith, but Keith fisted his hands into Shiro’s ragged shirt regardless. 

“... you…”

With some difficulty Shiro managed to sit up and, after getting his bearings, dropped to the floor beside him so that they could have a proper hug. Keith poured everything he had into it-- everything he didn’t have the words or the breath to convey. 

The inevitable began to happen; his sobs were turning into coughs. He could feel the familiar sensation of a literal lump at the back of his throat, and after a few seconds of the hoarse hacking Shiro pulled away in concern, brushing Keith’s hair back from his face to get a better look. His grey eyes were so full of concern-- it made a fresh wave a warm tears coat his cheeks. 

“Keith? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

If he’d had the breath Keith would’ve laughed. As it was he shook his head, a lie that a second later was negated by the tang of blood in his mouth. He wasn’t going to be able to hide this from Shiro-- the disease itself was guaranteeing that. 

Keith heard Shiro give a strangled gasp when the first petal fell from his bloodied lips. But he didn’t say anything, even as the first petal was followed by a second, and a third, and a fourth. He just held Keith upright, keeping him from crumbling to the floor. Keith wasn’t scared anymore. The final bloom could come right then and he could die happy with the knowledge that Shiro was safe. 

There came a lull in the fit, allowing Keith to take a few heaving, shuddery breaths. It wasn’t the end of the fit, Keith knew that, but Shiro didn’t.

“Who?” he asked of Keith in a shaking voice. “Who are they for?”

“Are you  _ joking?”  _ His exclamation kick started another pulse of coughs, but in between them he managed to work out a sentence. “You! They’re for-- you-- you--  _ idiot--” _

Shiro made a strangled sound. Keith didn’t hear it at first, but as the fit began to taper off, he could finally make out the quiet words Shiro was muttering. They were apologies.

The coughing stopped, but Keith could still feel something on his tongue. With some reluctance he wormed one of his arms free of Shiro’s embrace and scraped it free. Then he could only stare in confusion and disbelief-- it wasn’t a petal.

It was a small, green bud. 

Shiro pulled away to look down at it himself, and to Keith’s confusion, a huge grin cracked over his face.

“What?” Keith asked, voice cracking. “What is it?”

“No more petals,” he whispered as he pulled Keith back into their hug. “Thank God, thank God.”

Keith leaned into his shoulder and closed his eyes. Whatever happened next didn’t much matter to him anymore. Petals or no petals.

His brother had come home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not


	10. Bring Us Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the cuddling prompt

Keith wasn’t sure what woke him. It could’ve been the person out in the hall knocking on his door, or it could’ve been the phantom heat of Shiro’s plasma blade pressing down on him in his dream. Either way it resulted in him sitting bolt upright in bed, heart pounding out of his chest and shivering with cold sweat. The adrenaline was still pumping and his eyesight was doing that thing where it got weirdly sensitive, making the shadows in the corners seem like they were moving. 

The knock repeated, nearly sending him jumping out of his skin. 

“Keith? Are you ok?”

He took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his clammy forehead. The voice belonged to Hunk, which meant that he had to pull himself together quickly. He was the leader now, after all. None of the others needed to know how often he still woke up like this, or how often he abandoned sleep entirely in favor of extra training sessions or walking patrols through the halls. Making sure everyone was safe. Making sure everyone was there. 

Making sure everyone was still themselves.

Tossing the tangled covers back, Keith pulled himself out of his bunk, pausing to rub his eyes and comb his fingers through his hair so that he looked a little more put together, even as Hunk continued to knock at the door. 

When he opened it he found Hunk standing there in his pajamas, a concerned expression on his face.

“What’s up?” Keith asked, trying to keep his voice even. “Everything ok?”

Hunk’s eyebrows rose at his facade. “That’s what I came to ask you.” 

With a sinking sensation in his gut, Keith realized that playing dumb probably wasn’t going to get him out of this situation. But he could damn well keep trying. 

“What do you mean?”

This time Hunk crossed his arms over his chest, turning himself into an immovable mountain in white Garrison-issue pajamas. 

“I heard you a few minutes ago. You were talking in your sleep, and you kept saying Shiro’s name.”

At that Keith’s thin defense finally crumbled. His gaze skittered down to the floor, turning his head away slightly (subconsciously hiding the scar on his cheek) and his fingers toyed with the hem of his sleep shirt. 

Hunk gentled a bit at the sight of Keith’s unease. His arms lowered a little bit, more like hugging himself than crossing them, and his brow furrowed the way it always did when he found someone he thought needed comfort. Apparently he didn’t know what to say, as for a few seconds he was quiet. 

Keith sighed, already feeling guilt curdle in his stomach for disturbing his teammate at the end of a long day. “Hunk, you don’t have to--”

“You know you can talk to us, right?”

He stopped. He hadn’t expected Hunk to interrupt, and definitely not in such a soft, melancholy tone. 

“We’re your friends. You comfort us when we need it, so why don’t you let us help you?”

“I…”

They both thought of it at the same time. Those hours lost in space, nothing but each other, when the doubts that usually lingered at the edges of Keith’s mind came forward to devour him whole. Hunk’s face grew ever softer, ever more sad, and Keith’s throat tightened. He wasn’t ready to open  _ that  _ particular can of worms, especially not when he was still shaken from his dream. 

He swallowed hard and tried the sentence again. 

“I’m ok, Hunk, really. It was just a nightmare. We all have them sometimes.”

Hunk wasn’t convinced. His eyes narrowed a bit, like he was searching Keith’s expression for some indication of what to do next, then he put his hands on his hips in his patented Stubborn Posture. Keith mentally breathed a tired sigh. He just wanted to go back to bed and forget, but Hunk didn’t look like he was going to let the topic go so easily. 

“Yeah, we do. But we don’t stay by ourselves afterwards. You know that, right?”

“Um…”

As it turned out, he didn’t actually know that. He hadn’t been that close to the other paladins back in the Castle. Shiro would seek him out after a nightmare sometimes, but even then Keith didn’t do the same. Shiro had enough to worry about without dealing with Keith waking up every other night dreaming of being back in the desert, alone, or the glow of the symbol in his knife leading Zarkon to him while he tried to hide in the shadows, or Allura watching him with those cold eyes as she kicked him off the team. 

And of course he knew that the others had nightmares. After all of this it would’ve been weird if they didn’t. But he never stopped to consider what any of the others did afterwards. 

The look in Hunk’s eyes felt pitying. 

“We had a system,” he began to explain, and Keith found himself leaning against the doorframe, a wave of exhaustion nearly making his eyes sag shut right then. It must’ve been close to three or four a.m. “When I had one I’d go to Lance, and when he had one he’d come to me. After a while Pidge caught on and joined in, and a few times all three of us wound up in the same room.”

Keith clenched his jaw to hold back a yawn. He was about ninety percent sure if he tried to go back to bed now he’d only be dropped right back into the cloning facility, but he probably didn’t have a choice in the matter. 

“What are you trying to say, Hunk?”

“I’m  _ asking  _ if you want me to stay with you.”

Keith’s shoulders stiffened, and it must’ve been visible because before he could so much as open his mouth Hunk was talking again.

“Ok, no, actually, you know what? I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

“Hunk--”

“Nope, none of that ‘I’m the leader I can take care of myself’ bullshit. You’re worse than Shiro, I swear. Come on, we’re going to the lounge.” And with that he grabbed Keith by the wrist and pulled him out into the hallway. 

He probably could’ve gotten away if he really wanted to. As brusque as he was being, he knew Hunk would back off if he asked him to. But with his hand so warm around Keith’s wrist, and the determined yet kind expression on his face, maybe Keith didn’t quite want him to.

So he let Hunk pull him down the halls of the Atlas, all dark and layered with fragile sleep-quiet. It was soothing, and Keith felt his body relaxing despite the nightmare still toying at the edges of his imagination. 

Their new lounge wasn’t so different from the one in the Castle. It had the same large sofa embedded in the floor, but in this one the cushions were Garrison standard issue orange rather than black. In the dark it didn’t matter much, and Hunk didn’t turn on the lights. 

He just took a seat, and not knowing what else to do, Keith sat beside him. That’s when the silence turned awkward.

Keith clenched his hands between his knees, trying not to shrink under the weight of expectancy. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. When Shiro came to him they usually just sat together until they fell asleep or morning came, whichever happened first, but that was because Keith didn’t know how to comfort someone back then. But this was Hunk, he knew what he was doing, so shouldn’t he be asking questions? Or was he going to wait for Keith to talk first?

Hunk sighed, interrupting his internal spiral. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Pidge almost never did. We can just sit here for awhile if that’s what you want. But if you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

Keith considered. The others didn’t know about what happened at the cloning facility. Keith hadn’t said, and they didn’t ask. It only now occurred to him that he didn’t even know if Shiro remembered it. He carried it alone, as he always had, and in the process had forgotten that they were a team, and he could trust them. 

_ Old habits,  _ he thought grimly, then braced himself. 

“Well… you guys know that I had to bring Shiro back.” He’d tried to keep his voice soft, but in the darkness of the slumbering ship it sounded like he was speaking through a megaphone. 

“It was a fight, huh?”

Keith nodded, forgetting Hunk couldn’t see him.

“It was… rough.”

It was vague, but somehow conveyed everything he didn’t have the words to say. 

Hunk’s arm settled over his shoulders, pulling him in, and for once Keith allowed it. He leaned his head on Hunk’s shoulder, finally relaxing completely as the warmth of the embrace sunk in. 

Hunk wasn’t as tall as his mother, or as muscled as Shiro, but the few times he’d experienced them he’d decided that Hunk gave the best hugs  _ ever.  _ It felt like sinking into a cloud, or climbing into bed beside someone who’d been asleep for hours already.

Hunk didn’t ask for anymore questions, and Keith didn’t offer up any more information. For tonight, at least, that had been enough. The remnants of the dream were flitting away now, driven out by companionship, and soon Keith felt his eyelids drooping.

This time he didn’t dread it. Hunk’s presence promised warmth and safety. 

And if the others found them that way the next morning, Keith’s head still on Hunk’s shoulder and his arm tight around him, well. Could you really blame him?

  
  
  



	11. Lion's Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the coffee shop au prompt. Also, WoW reference.

The cafe was busy and bustling, as per usual. Allura loved it-- getting caught up in the steady hum of voices, the clinking of porcelain, the slight jangle of the bell at the front door whenever someone entered or left. The cafe felt like what it was to her: home, and the cash register said the patrons felt that way, too. 

The doorbell chimed again at exactly three p.m., as always, while Allura was pulling a tray of blueberry muffins out of the oven. She quickly dropped the pan onto the cooling rack and, entrusting Coran to get them prepped, dashed out to the counter to greet the customers.

“Welcome to the Castle of Lions,” she began in her bright tone, momentarily forgetting what three p.m. meant, only to cut herself off at the faces on the other side of the counter.

“Wow, Allura,” said Shiro with an amused smirk. “Your customer service voice is two whole octaves higher than your normal one.”

Allura rolled her eyes at him. “Are you here to order something or just be annoying?”

They both knew the answer to that. Though he teased her, Allura and Shiro had been friends for a long time, and Shiro made a point of stopping by the cafe everyday to chat for a few minutes. More often than not, with his adopted brother, Keith, in tow.

“Alright, alright. The usual please, green tea.”

She punched in the order without having to look, focusing her eyes instead on Keith, who as ever hovered a few steps behind Shiro with his head ducked. He was several years younger than the two of them, still in highschool, and he gripped the strap of his backpack tightly, the way Allura had always seen him do while they were in the cafe.

“Usual coffee for you, Keith?”

He bobbed his head in a quick nod, followed by a quiet, “Thank you.”

“Throw in a slice of that raspberry blackout cake, too,” Shiro said. Allura did as he bid, then glanced up from the register slyly.

“Special occasion?”

Shiro grinned, pulling Keith into his side in a rough hug. “Yeah, Keith won that piloting scholarship. Figured we’d celebrate.”

Keith’s cheeks flushed as he tried to pull away. “Shiro, knock it off.”

“Congratulations,” said Allura with a genuine smile. She could feel the pride radiating off of Shiro, and it was hard not to be affected by it. He doted on his little brother.

“Thanks,” Keith murmured again, and this time Allura caught a glimpse of the proud shimmer in his eyes. He was acting humble, but he was just as excited about it as Shiro, perhaps even more so. 

“Alright, your drinks will be out in a minute, let me grab that cake for you.”

After their food had been delivered, and after a few more minutes of conversation over the counter, Shiro and Keith moved back to their regular corner table. Now and then, as she went about her business, Allura would spare a glance in their direction. They were having an animated conversation, and she was pleased to note how Keith had devoured the cake slice. She would need to offer him that more often-- the boy was too skinny. 

After about half an hour Shiro and Keith stood from their table. And with one last wave from the door, they left for home, and Allura sank back into the hustle and bustle of the cafe, content in her expectation that she wouldn’t be seeing them again until the next day. 

Her expectation proved to be incorrect. 

* * *

It was well past nine in the evening when Allura finally flipped the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’. The chairs were all up, balanced on the tables that had been wiped clean, the floor had been swept and mopped, the kitchen was tidy, the dishes were sparkling-- another day’s work, complete with satisfaction. 

She went back to the kitchen to get her coat and bag, and paused by the back door, ready to turn out the lights and head home, when she heard a faint knocking from the dining room. Insistent knocking.

With a huff of annoyance she dropped her bag and went back the way she’d come. She loved running the cafe, but sometimes the customers inability to read signs really made her blood boil. 

The shape of the person was dark and indistinct against the inky blackness of night, but even so Allura could tell that they were slumping against the glass door of the cafe, one arm holding them upright and the other knocking, knocking, knocking, even as she came into their line of sight.

“Alright, alright already,” she mumbled spitefully to herself, then, “I’m sorry, but the Castle of Lions is closed for the night.”

Evidently they didn’t hear her through the glass, as they just kept knocking. So with an irritated toss of her head, she turned the lock and pulled it open, nearly sending the person falling into her if they hadn’t caught hold of the doorframe at the last moment. 

“Sir, I’m sorry, but we’re--” That’s when the figure finally looked up at her, and she cut herself off with a gasp. The light in the dining room revealed his face; it was Keith. More importantly, it was Keith who had a black eye, a split lip, and a horrid gash leaking blood into his eyebrow. 

“Keith? What on Earth--”

“I’m sorry,” he said in a thick voice, cutting her off again. The expression on his face was positively bereaved, and she couldn’t help but notice how shallow his breath was, and the hand that wrapped itself around his abdomen now that he didn’t need it to knock with. “Sh-shiro’s not home and I-- I didn’t know where to g-go.”

Luckily it only took Allura a few more moments to snap out of her shock. 

“Of course, of course, come in!” She stepped back and away from the door, extending one arm to help Keith inside, as he seemed to be favoring his right leg. “Goodness, what  _ happened?” _

Keith merely shook his head. For now Allura allowed that to stand as she turned one of the chairs down and sat him in it, but she would get the truth out of him eventually. 

After she dealt with all of this.

“Stay here, I’ll go get the first aid kit.” She did so quickly, relieved that she’d told Coran to go home early so that he wouldn’t be fussing or getting in the way. When she returned Keith was hunched in his chair, shivering, though it could have been from cold or from shock. Either way she was worried. 

Allura turned down another chair across from him, wincing when the noise made Keith flinch, then hurriedly opened the box and began to look for a disinfectant wipe to clean away the blood. He didn’t speak until she surfaced with one and brushed his bangs back to get better access, and even then his voice came out in a whisper. 

“I’m sorry, Allura…”

“Shhhh,” she said as she began to dab away at the blood surrounding the edges of the cut. It wasn’t large, but it was bleeding rather heavily. “What happened, Keith? Do we need to call the police?”

He shook his head, forcing her to pause in her ministrations. “No, it was just some assholes from school.” He winced. “Sorry.”

It took Allura a moment to realize he was apologizing for swearing, and she nearly laughed. Here she was, opening a large bandaid to put on his wound, and he thought she cared about swearing. 

“It’s alright. What did they do?”

His shoulders slumped. “They said it was a study group.” He paused for a moment, like he was thinking, then he scowled to himself. “It was my own fault. I should’ve known better.”

All she could think to say was “Oh, Keith,” and then neither of them said anything as she continued to do what she could for his injuries. Wiped away more blood from his lip, gently applied some anti-inflammatory cream to his black eye and the bruise he was hiding under his shirt. Then came the difficult part.

Allura didn’t look up as she repacked the first aid kit. “Have you called Shiro?” she asked, hopefully nonchalantly. From the corner of her eye she saw Keith stiffen despite her efforts.

“No. He’s on base, he’s not allowed to have his phone.”

“Well,” she smoothed her hands through her hair. “I’ll leave him a voicemail, then he’ll know where to come get you.”

“W-wait, what? No, it’s ok, I can just walk home.” Allura was shaking her head before he’d even finished.

“No, I absolutely will not hear of it. You and I are staying right here until he comes to get you. No ifs, ands, or buts.” 

For a moment Keith looked like he was going to try and argue some more, but then his expression melted into exhaustion. 

“Alright, fine.”

“Good.” Allura picked up the first aid kit and went to return it to the kitchen. On the way back out a display case caught her eye, and without thinking she doubled back.

When she went back out to Keith it was with a plate in her hand, two forks balanced on it alongside the slice of cake. He stared as she set it down on the table, and when their eyes finally met, she gave him the warmest smile she could muster. 

And if tears beaded up in his eyes at that moment, well; it wasn’t anybody’s business but theirs. 


	12. The Quickest Way to the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the food sharing prompt

Hunk disliked a lot of things about space. The fact that he couldn’t contact his family, for one. The intense motion sickness he got everytime he flew his lion, for another. And of course there was the ever looming threat of impending, painful death. 

But for him, despite all of those, the worst thing about living in space was the food.

He enjoyed finding new ingredients and experimenting, don’t get him wrong. It was just that none of them were quite like what they had an Earth. Some were similar, like that weird beige bean Pidge had discovered had the same effect as caffeine but smelled like burning hair, but none of them were exact. They weren’t… familiar.

So in their travels, when they happened upon a fruit at the space mall that looked like an apple that had been stretched in photoshop but tasted  _ exactly  _ like mango, he just couldn’t resist.

Hunk blew all of his spending money that day on as many bags of that fruit as the merchant had. The Alteans had been puzzled, and so had the other Paladins. That is, until they tasted it. The Alteans remained puzzled as to why it nearly made Lance cry, but they made no further comments about it. 

That trip had been several months ago. Or, several phoebs ago. Or was it movements? He could never keep all those Altean words straight in his head. In any case it had been a while, and their cache of apple-mangoes had dwindled to almost nothing. In fact, Hunk was currently slicing the last one up to make his food goo breakfast more palatable. 

He didn’t necessarily feel bad about eating the last one. Lance had eaten nearly a whole bag full just by himself, and though the other paladins seemed to enjoy them, they didn’t indicate they had any special attachment. 

Once the fruit had been divided into cubes, Hunk scooped about half of them into the food goo, giving it a good stir with his spork, then put the rest into another, smaller bowl. Breakfast in hand, he departed for the dining room. 

He was surprised when he entered to find another shape already sitting at the table. Normally Hunk was the first one up, but here was Keith, slouching over his own bowl of food goo, which he was stirring around despondently. 

“Morning, Keith,” he greeted, and Keith’s head shot up, as though Hunk had startled him. 

“Oh, hey, Hunk,” he pushed his chair back and stood. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“What? No, you haven’t finished eating yet. You don’t have to leave just ‘cause I’m here.” Hunk set his bowls down, not at his usual spot, but at the place next to Keith, who had gone still. 

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.” Hunk sat down and dug into his plate, watching Keith from the corner of his eye. He still looked like he was going to bolt, but after a few moments sank back into his seat, and with him sunk a silence. Not awkward (for Hunk, at least), but Keith was stirring his goo around in a manner that reminded him of the bored tigers at the zoo. 

“What are you doing up so early?” Hunk asked after a few mouthfuls, purely for Keith’s sake.

“I’m usually up this early,” Keith answered in a low tone, “Just finish eating fast, is all. Today took me longer.”

“Uh huh.” He said it like he was agreeing, but Hunk could sense things like this. Keith wasn’t being entirely honest, and based on his behavior before, he had a theory as to what the real reason was. But he wasn’t going to push it. Not yet.

“Why’d it take longer today?” 

In answer, Keith held up a spoonful of goo and turned it over, watching it  _ plop  _ back into the bowl with a wry expression. 

Ah. That made sense. They all had days when the goo was less than bearable. But that only brought up another question. 

“There was still one of the mangoes left earlier, why didn’t you grab that instead?”

Keith’s eyes flickered, dropping from Hunk’s face down to the little bowl of red fruit before darting back up, then he looked away and dug his spork violently into his goo.

“It was the last one,” he muttered. “Someone else would’ve wanted it.”

“Well, yeah, but I thought we all agreed they were first come first serve? Remember, after Lance tried to hide some of them?”

That got a tiny chuckle out of the Red Paladin, but he didn’t say anything else, and he didn’t look up at Hunk. His shoulders had hunched the more they talked, forming a protective curve, and Hunk may not have known him exceptionally well but he had seen that before. That was Keith’s  _ I’m shutting down so that I don’t have to address my anxieties  _ slouch. 

“Here,” said Hunk, shoving his bowl against Keith’s elbow. “You can have those. Can’t go to training hungry.”

Keith blinked a few times, as though he was surprised, then flushed bright red and sat back from the table, away from the offered fruit. 

“No, it’s fine. I can eat the goo, I’m just being whiny.” He attempted a self-deprecating smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. “You made that for you, not for me.”

“Originally, yeah, but plans change.”

“Really, Hunk, I’m not that picky. I’ll survive.”

“I insist.”

For a moment there was a standoff, Hunk aggressively trying to not seem aggressive and Keith defensively trying not to seem defensive. Eventually he gave in, and with a murmured thank you, plucked one of the pieces out of the bowl and shrank away again. 

“Nuh-uh,” said Hunk, giving the bowl another shove. This time it clinked against the side of Keith’s bowl. “All of ‘em.”

“Hunk, you don’t--”

“I have some in my goo, that’s just half of it; you know how big those things are. Does that make you feel better?”

Keith looked a bit affronted, but thankfully for Hunk’s sanity, didn’t try to argue anymore. There was quiet for a few more minutes, both of them quietly eating, until Keith spoke up again in a soft voice.

“Thanks, Hunk. Really.”

For the first time since they’d come to the Castle, Hunk smiled down at his bowl of food goo.

“No problem, Keith.”


	13. Don't Let Me Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the long distance friendship prompt

Keith never thought he’d be grateful for the plywood thin things the Blade of Marmora called mattresses. But today, as he slumped in fresh from a mission, still aching from the G-forces in the jet he’d been flying, even the slightest bit of comfort was welcome. He didn’t even pause to take his suit off-- just face planted into his pillow, ready to pass out. 

Then there was a muffled  _ vrrrrr,  _ and blue light flooded the dark room. Even with his eyes closed he felt the burn. 

_ Goddamnit, Pidge,  _ he thought grumpily to himself as his tablet continued to buzz away on the dresser. Knowing her she’d probably called thirteen times already, and if he didn’t answer, she’d probably call thirteen more. He would be willing to test that theory, if he wasn’t so light of a damn sleeper. 

With an irritated growl, he levered himself upright enough to grope for the device with one hand. Once he found it he fell back against the wall, pulling his hood up and over his eyes as he blindly tapped around for the answer button. 

“Hey!” Keith flinched at the sudden voice. “What’s the big idea? I’ve been calling for  _ hours!” _

“I was on a mission,” Keith grumbled a bit sullenly. “You know, those things I do to help fight back against the Galra empire?”

“But it’s Tuesday! We always talk on Tuesday!”

“Sorry, figured fighting for the universe’s freedom was more important.” He peeked open one eye to look at the screen. Pidge was in her usual position, lounging in her Paladin chair with the video call open in front of her. What was different was that she was in her armor, when normally she changed out of it as soon as they got off a mission. “Besides, how do you even know it’s Tuesday? I lost track of the days months ago.”

Pidge’s expression turned prim. “It’s Tuesday when I say it’s Tuesday. Don’t you know I’m always right?”

“Right, right, silly me.” Keith rolled his eyes, but now accepting that he wasn’t going to be allowed to sleep until Pidge told him whatever it is she had on her brain, propped the tablet up against his pillow and crossed his legs. “Ok, what’s going on? You’re way more hyper today.” 

Normally Pidge would’ve taken offense at that comment as well, but this time she merely grinned, rocking forward and clasping her hands in front of her chest. 

“Ok, ok, so, you are not going to believe this.”

Keith raised an eyebrow.

“So I analyzed the sound of the explosion in the escape video file, right, and that let me determine what explosive was used, yeah? So I tracked down a guy who sold it and at first he wanted to double cross me but then I beat him up which was so epic and then he finally told me what I wanted to know so then I--”

“Pidge,” sighed Keith, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He liked to let Pidge ramble when she wanted, just because no one else would listen but him, but at the moment he was far too exhausted to sit through a two hour info-dumping session. “Please, just this once, be succinct.”

Pidge pouted, but said reluctantly, “Fine. TLDR; I found Matt.”

Keith sat up so quickly his spine popped. “You what?”

Her grin turning impish, Pidge leaned out of the frame. When she came back she had both of her arms tightly wound around someone elses bicep, and Keith’s jaw dropped. 

It was, indeed, Matt Holt. He looked older now, his hair at jaw length, and he had a red scar on his cheek, but it was undoubtedly him. 

Keith, not knowing what to say, blurted out, “You look like a Jedi.”

Matt laughed, and the sound sent a shiver down Keith’s spine. He could feel the wave of nostalgia coming already. 

“And Lance was right, you look like a space ninja.”

Keith flushed, but before he could say anything else Pidge was off and talking again, describing the mission to find her brother in excruciating detail, and after a few minutes he accepted his defeat and didn’t try to interrupt. Matt perched himself on the arm of Pidge’s chair, and together, exchanging a few wry looks between them, Keith and Matt sat and listened. 

For the first half an hour he managed to keep his yawns suppressed by clenching his jaw.But around the forty five minute mark he cracked, a large yawn escaping him. Pidge stopped short in the middle of her sentence, and a strange look took over her face.

“Am I keeping you up?” she asked, and Keith shook his head, both in answer and to keep his eyes open. 

“Nah, it’s fine. Keep going.”

But the expression on her face didn’t shift. “You just got back from a mission, right? How long was it?”

“About forty-- forty vargas,” Keith answered, interrupted by another yawn, big enough to make his eyes water. The furrows in Pidge’s brow deepened, and it was then that he recognized the look she was giving him. She was concerned. 

“Did you sleep at all that whole time?”

Now he got where she was going with this. He frowned and sat up a bit straighter, trying not to look as tired as he felt. After all, he and Pidge were friends, and friends listened to each other, right? And sacrificed for each other. 

“Doesn’t matter. You--”

“That means no,” she cut in testily, but Keith plowed on. 

“You haven’t finished your story yet. Go on.”

Pidge crossed her arms over her chest. Matt watched from the sidelines with a bemused expression, though there was also an echo of Pidge’s concern in his eyes. 

Keith hated it. The whole point of him being with the Blade was so that he didn’t make everybody worry anymore. About him going on missions and missing things, or being late to airshows, or being too reckless and putting everyone in danger. But he hadn’t completely cut them off like he was supposed to-- no, he let Pidge keep calling him every so often, and now that was coming back to bite him. 

“Story’s finished. You know how it ends, anyway.” She waved a hand at her brother, who chuckled and swatted at it. “I should’ve let you sleep a while ago.”

“I’m fine, Pidge.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you are. But you should sleep anyway. Before your next two day mission.” She sounded bitter, and she was kinda scowling at the floor now, and Keith felt it like a punch in the gut. Even when he was gone he was causing problems. He should’ve learned by now-- even his slightest presence would poison anyone it touched. If he’d even had to leave Shiro behind, the one who said he’d never give up on him but now looked at him with such animosity behind his eyes, what had made him think he’d be able to hold on to Pidge?

Some indication of his thoughts must’ve shown on his face, because Pidge’s expression suddenly softened. 

“I’ll tell you the rest next time,” she said, a bit awkwardly. “Next time I call.”

It was an olive branch. Whether it was genuine or just a way to get him off her back, Keith couldn’t tell, but he made himself give a tiny smile, the best he could manage. 

“Yeah, ok. Tuesday, right?”

She smiled back, her shoulders losing some of their tension. “Yeah. Tuesday.”

The screen flickered and went dark. Keith sat for a moment, staring at it, and was only broken out of his reverie when a droplet splattered against the glass.

Immediately he sat back and scrubbed away all traces of tears. Then he put the tablet back on the dresser and curled up on his bed, back to the tablet. His eyes burned, but he refused to let any more weakness slip out. 

Pidge probably wasn’t going to call again. Why would she, if he couldn’t even stay awake when she told him things? It was for the best, anyway. Neither of them needed the distraction. Like Kolivan always said; the mission over the individual. 

When would he learn? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one was sad, but fear not, the last chapter will make up for it.


	14. Family Don't End With Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the I Love You prompt./

It was two days after they’d started their journey home, and Keith was very, very close to losing his mind. Even two years on a space whale with only his mother and a teleporting wolf had been easier to deal with than space road-tripping with his old team. To be fair, he wasn’t sure who was worse; Coran or Lance. 

But, thankfully, after some clever arguing and a few well placed puppy-dog eyes, he’d managed to get Black’s cockpit to himself today. 

Well. Himself and Shiro. 

The silence between them was… awkward. So much hung in the air-- Keith’s two year absence, the tension the clone had bred between them before it, and of course, the fight. Even with the Altean bruise cream and bandages he’d lifted from the infirmary before they left, Keith was still feeling the aches and pains from that battle. Not to mention the bandage layered over his burned cheek. 

Keith caught himself watching Shiro out of the corner of his eyes and jerked them away, back to the endless scroll of stars outside Black’s windscreen. The Lion herself rumbled quietly in the back of his mind, concerned not only for him, but for her previous paladin as well. But Keith brushed her away and tried to focus on the task of flying. 

He didn’t know how much Shiro remembered from the clone’s body, and honestly he didn’t want to. He could remember all of it, every cut and scrape and argument, or he could remember nothing since before the big Zarkon fight. Or anywhere in between. 

_ And really,  _ he tried to tell himself,  _ it doesn’t matter.  _ It didn’t matter how much Shiro remembered or didn’t remember, because it wasn’t him, and he hadn’t meant anything he’d said or done since Keith had found the clone all those months (years, for him) ago. 

It didn’t matter. 

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?

An ache in his knuckles drew him out of his head again, and he winced a little as he purposely relaxed his grip on the Lion’s controls. From his right there came a tired sounding sigh.

“We have to talk about it eventually.”

Keith carefully didn’t look over at him. “We don’t have to right now,” he said, keeping his tone even. “You’re still recovering.” 

Shiro let out a huffed breath, and Keith found his lip twitching at the old expression of exasperation. He couldn’t remember if the clone had done it or not. With the clone things had been less fond annoyance and more genuine irritation.

He shut that thought down quick.

“Ok. How about this-- I want to talk about it. Now.”

“Alright,” he said, though reluctantly, and put Black on autopilot so that he could turn to face Shiro. He was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall, and his expression was so tired that Keith almost tried to keep arguing the point. But there was a flare of determination in his eyes that said he wasn’t going to let him keep dodging this conversation.

No matter how painful.

“So… how do you want to do this?”

Shiro’s shoulder moved, as though he was trying to run his hand through his hair, but flinched when he realized he no longer had a hand on that side and gave it up. Keith’s stomach twisted at the memory of how he’d shorn it from Shiro’s body-- he didn’t actually remember it that well, there had been a few moments in the fight where things had gotten blurred, but he remembered the way his muscles had strained to cut through the metal. 

“Look, I don’t remember everything,” Shiro began, stumbling over his words despite his previous insistence that they have this talk. “But I remember enough.”

Keith blinked, then frowned. Shiro was being vague, and damnit he knew Keith didn’t  _ get  _ vague. But the look on his face and the way he gnawed his lip told him that Shiro didn’t mean to do it on purpose. He probably just didn’t want to say it out loud. That is, assuming his expressions still meant the same thing now.

Keith’s head was starting to hurt.

“I… I remember the fight. I remember…” His eyes darted down to the bandage for a moment before forcing themselves back up. “I remember hurting you.”

Keith shook his head. He’d anticipated this. “Yeah, you beat me up,” Shiro winced, “but I beat you up just as bad. So we’re even. Like sparring.”

It was nothing like sparring and they both knew it. But Shiro didn’t argue. No, he had something else he wanted to talk about, and Keith had an awful feeling he knew what it was. 

“I remember the things I said.”

“Shiro--”

He held up his hand, cutting him off. “I already know that it didn’t bother you as much as it would have before. However long you were in the quantum abyss, it-- you’ve changed, and I can see that.” 

For a split second Keith was anxious, but then Shiro gave a small smile. 

“From what I can see, the changes are for the better. I remember when something like that would’ve really hurt you, but you just shrugged it off. But that’s not what I mean. It’s not what I said that I want to talk about; rather, it’s what I didn’t say.”

Keith huffed, trying to restrain his frustration. He was practically dying of apprehension over here and Shiro was talking in circles. 

Shiro noticed, and with a small, fond smile, finally got to the point. 

“You said you loved me.”

He paused, and Keith’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t regret saying it, nor was he going to deny it: he loved Shiro, and over the past two years he’d finally grown enough to move past the fear and admit it. Shiro was his brother, he was the one to give Keith his second chance, to pull him out of the shadows he’d sunk so far into and give him what he needed to shine, the one who’d never given up on him no matter how often he screwed up. Of course he loved Shiro. He just… hadn’t expected it to ever be brought up again, that’s all.

“I don’t think I-- or, he, I guess-- said anything back, did he?”

“He did,” replied Keith with an anxious rub of his thumb over his knuckles. “He told me to stop fighting.”

Shiro’s eyes softened. “Well, that’s not what  _ I  _ want to say.”

“I know--” Shiro held up his hand again, and Keith obligingly fell silent, finally accepting the fact that Shiro had some things to say and the discussion would be over if he just let him. 

“I know you know, but I’ve never said it to you, and after all of this, after everything you’ve done for me, I don’t think that’s fair. You deserve to hear it said.”

Keith held his breath as Shiro pushed himself to standing. He staggered a little, but used his remaining hand to steady himself against the dashboard. Despite now towering over Keith in his seated position, he didn’t feel the least bit intimidated by him, for probably the first time since he’d found the pod with the clone slumped inside. 

“I love you too, Keith. I love you.”

And for some stupid, indiscernible reason, tears sprung into Keith’s eyes at the words and his heart felt like it was overflowing in his chest. The next thing he knew he was on his feet too, locked in a tight embrace with Shiro, now only two inches taller than him thanks to his space whale growth spurt. 

For the first time in a long time, Keith felt absolutely, perfectly, entirely safe. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaand that's a wrap folks. This was so much fun to do, thanks for reading!


End file.
